A Shout for the Dead

by James Barclay

  'I don't think we have enough strength here,' said Davarov. 'Numbers don't enter into it. Spirit, belief, faith. These are in short supply.'

  'Even with Them here?'

  Davarov shrugged. 'You said it yourself. They spawn as much suspicion as they do hope. Every refugee has a story to tell. Things they've seen, things they've heard. The Neratharnese here are yet to face the dead. We have, you have, and the result is that we have both been driven hundreds of miles in front of them because we have no idea how to stop them.'

  'Had, Davarov. Had no idea.'

  'Roberto, come on, take the veil from your eyes. Two hundred artillery pieces, three Ascendants. Twenty-five miles of wall here, no defence at all the other side. If they fight smart, like they did on my border and in Gosland, they will breach us.'

  'We outnumber them,' said Roberto.

  'Today, yes. Tomorrow? Who knows. We hoped they would decay and fall, they did not. We hoped we could keep the path clear in front of them, they caught us all the same. Roberto, they have destroyed the 2nd legion. The Bear Claws. Gone bar maybe a few hundred still lost in the mountains to the north.' Davarov shook his head. 'I will stand until they drag me down. Until the last onager is overrun. But I have people with me who know the depths of the terror they experienced on the Tsardon border. Will they stand this time? Not if there is no hope.'

  'Then we must give them hope,' said Roberto. 'We have new weapons. We have you and we have me. We must exude nothing but confidence.'

  Davarov smiled. 'I'm looking down on my country, Roberto. And I want it back.'

  'And we have Ruthrar.'

  Davarov's smile disappeared. 'Weapon or spy?'

  'You've spoken to Dolius, Davarov, what do you think?'

  'I think that the Tsardon have been treacherous bastards on my doorstep for fifteen years and too often inside the houses of my countrymen. You cannot ask me to trust a Tsardon, not even one with the reputation of this Ruthrar. And don't forget it's a reputation quickly earned. How would you behave if you found yourself marooned like him and his people?'

  'People who fought and died alongside Conquord loyals trying to disrupt Gorian's advance.'

  Davarov sighed. 'I'm a cynic, I know.'

  'Worse than Dahnishev.'

  'But I have reason. Letting him ride out to talk to Khuran, if he really is with them, just gives them information. And what are you really hoping to achieve? No Tsardon is ever going to stand on these walls.'

  'That is not what I want,' said Roberto. 'We just don't want them fighting with the dead. It has to be worth the risk. Think about it, what information can he really give Khuran that the king couldn't deduce for himself?'

  it's your decision, Roberto. Part of me wants to string up Ruthrar as a warning. The other wants to push him out of the gates and let him do his worst. I don't know.'

  ‘I hear you, Davarov. How long before the Tsardon get here?

  'Five days, maybe less.' Davarov jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'And Gorian will be in striking distance tomorrow.'

  'But he won't attack.'

  'No, I don't suppose he will. Not if this long distance communication he is supposed to have is true.' 'Harban has no doubt.' 'Now there's an odd one,' said Davarov.

  Roberto smiled. 'Can't disagree with you there. He says almost nothing. Just that what he does say carries such authority.' 'And what does he have to say about all this?' 'He wants us to go and snatch the Gor-Karkulas.' 'Easier to kill them,' said Davarov.

  'Not if we want to keep the Karku as friends.' Roberto sighed. 'He's right of course. Take them and we reduce Gorian's strength dramatically. But getting to them through the dead. Got to be almost impossible.'

  Davarov nodded. 'Let's try the things we know first. Let him reveal his hand. It's the Neratharn side we have to worry about. No one, dead or alive, is coming through these walls in a hurry. Roberto?'

  'Yes?'

  'You're avoiding them, aren't you?' Roberto felt his throat tighten. 'Blame me?' 'No. But I think the big tall one is starting to get a complex.' 'Jhered has a complex about everything.' 'Come and say hello, why don't you?' said Davarov. Roberto shrugged and felt the touch of nerves. 'All right. Let's get it over with.'

  Arducius watched Jhered greet Roberto Del Aglios and could feel the grief in the energy lines that flowed from the pair of them. He stayed back in the barracks canteen, sitting on a bench with Mirron and

  Ossacer. They were all tired after the voyage. Mirron was still a little sick despite Ossacer's ministrations and Arducius was sure it was more than just sea sickness this time. From the look in Mirron's eyes, she knew it too. God-surround-him, they all did. Gorian was near and he drove his dead before him. The facts lay heavy in the lines of the earth. Tortured and twisted everywhere, coiled as if trying to escape their fate.

  The two old friends talked for some time in whispered tones before Roberto nodded, smiled sadly and walked towards them. Behind him, Jhered turned to them, gave them a meaningful look and fell to his own thoughts, a hand over chin and mouth.

  Arducius stood up, his brother and sister with him. The three of them saluted him but he waved it away with a dismissive gesture. Ossacer was tense. Arducius knew why. It was all over Roberto's life map as well as in his eyes and his bearing. He was stricken with grief but boiling around it was anger, directed their way.

  'Ambassador Del Aglios, we had not thought to see you here,' said Arducius, having to say something.

  'No,' said Roberto. 'Thirty-five days ago I would have been surprised myself. But one of your kin has changed all that and we are all the lesser for it. Small wonder you are treated with suspicion here, at best.'

  'I don't understand,' said Arducius.

  'My brother, Adranis, is a victim of the evil of Gorian Westfallen and I hold the Ascendancy responsible.'

  Mirron gasped. 'Ambassador, I cannot tell you how sorry I am to hear that.'

  'Your brother was a great man,' said Ossacer.

  'Yes, he was,' said Roberto. 'And had I not decapitated and mutilated him myself, he would be a great man walking with your bastard brother as one of the dead.'

  Arducius swallowed. He would have backed off a pace but for the bench at the back of his legs.

  'We are as disgusted by Gorian's use of his abilities as any man,' said Arducius. 'Our aim has always been—'

  'Quiet!' snapped Roberto and the three of them jumped in unison. 'I have not come here to discuss the aims or otherwise of the Ascendancy my mother is far too happy to keep so close. My aim on arriving here was to demand your presence and for that reason alone, I am happy you are here.

  'But let me get one thing straight. Every day, I regret a little more, the fact that I listened to you and did not order the killing of Gorian. My brother is dead because of my stupidity and so are countless thousands of others. So we will not be sitting at the same table and we are not going to be friends, do I make myself clear?

  'You are here to destroy that abomination and all his bastard creations. That is all you are here to do and you will take your orders directly from either myself, or General Davarov. You will question nothing and I expect you to sacrifice your lives if that's what it takes.

  'Ossacer what is wrong with you?'

  Roberto glared at him with an intensity that would have withered a weaker man.

  'We are here to help. And we are all saddened that your brother is dead. But please, do not hold the entire Ascendancy to account for the actions of one man. You have to accept that Ascendants are here with the same rights under God as any man.'

  ‘I have to accept nothing,' spat Roberto. 'The very potential in you for this evil sickens me to my stomach. There is no redemption for you, merely appeasement. One day, I will be Advocate and will preside on the Hill. Do not assume for one moment that I will necessarily allow your work to proceed.

  'Now get out of my sight and get to work on beating this enemy. I do not expect to have to speak to you again.'

  Roberto stood daring them to ut
ter another word. Jhered hissed through his teeth and Mirron led them all away. Ossacer opened his mouth but Jhered's expression gave him pause. None of them spoke until they were outside under the sun.

  'How dare he speak to us like that,' said Ossacer. 'We have come in good faith to help.'

  Jhered stopped and turned on him. 'Listen to me, Ossacer, and listen well. All of you. For all the support you enjoy back in Estorr, out here it looks like only I will stand up for you. Roberto is broken but his mind is clear enough. Do not cross him. The Ascendancy stands on the edge of a knife and to either side lies disaster. You fight now not merely to win today but for your very survival. Make me proud and make him think again. Because if you can't, it matters little how many you save here. When we get back home, you will be finished.'

  'Hatred is as fragile as love,' said Vasselis. ‘I wonder if she knew that.'

  ‘I wonder what would have happened had the Chancellor still been alive.'

  ‘Instead they are buried side-by-side under the lawn of the Omniscient, Marcus.'

  'And do we take any comfort from that?'

  The two old soldiers rode together along the processional road, returning from the Principal House of Masks. The first legion was with them. The palace guard was a cloak about them. The Armour of God were an honour guard along the entire route. Across the city, the flags were lowered. Bells sounded flat notes. Horns played the marches of death. A melancholy symphony.

  'The anger will return,' said Vasselis. 'We need to make the most of this opportunity while it exists. Get people moving out now the Advocate is with God.'

  Marcus Gesteris nodded at the carriage behind which they rode. 'You know the thing that really lifts my heart in all this? Tuline has seen the love that the citizens had for her mother. Her last days were dark but Herine was a magnificent ruler. Their lives have been enriched through her Advocacy and they remembered that at the end.'

  Vasselis nodded, it should tell us a lot. That the will of the people isn't represented purely by the Order.'

  'But two legions of the Armour are very persuasive.'

  'They have always known how to still dissenting voices.'

  The carriage, covered and curtained to hide Tuline's tears, rattled under the Victory Gates. The sun beamed upon the palace but it could not disguise the fact that the city, aflame only five days ago, was hollow, empty and heartbroken. When he examined his mind, Vasselis was not surprised at the reaction but his relief had hidden that from him.

  The fury of the citizenry had melted away, swept aside by a tide of shock and grief. Only a day after Herine's death, the siege had been lifted and the Council of Speakers had sat down with Vasselis and Tuline to discuss arrangements for an interment befitting the Advocate of the Estorean Conquord and the appointed representative of the Omniscient on earth.

  The cynical side of Vasselis suggested to him that this was merely a ploy, that the Order was only doing as it did so well and reading the mood of the people, using it to increase their trust. They would find out if that was true in the coming days. But the spectre of an ignominious end to the rule of Herine Del Aglios had been avoided and for that, the Order was to be commended.

  Vasselis and Gesteris rode through the gates and into the courtyard. Stable boys ran to them to take the horses' reins and help the men dismount. The carriage had moved on to the steps of the palace. Vasselis saw Tuline descend the steps and hurry inside, out of sight.

  'You know we should flag the news,' said Gesteris. 'The beacons should all be black-smoked.'

  'I can't do that,' said Vasselis. 'We have to maintain the illusion of cohesion here. Think of the effect announcing the death of the Advocate would have on already scared forces out there. When we hear of victory or otherwise at Neratharn, then we will black-smoke.'

  'And what about Roberto? That man is the Advocate but he does not know it.'

  'Better he doesn't. Enough on his shoulders already.' 'I'm not sure he would see it that way.'

  'I can't help that, Marcus. I have to do what I think is right. Roberto will understand.'

  Gesteris turned at the sound of another carriage trundling over the cobbles into the courtyard. Vasselis looked past his shoulder. The sigils of the Omniscient adorned it. Each panel was painted in the bright colours of the elements.

  'They didn't waste much time,' said Gesteris.

  'Want a small wager on what they will want to discuss?'

  Gesteris chuckled and the pair of them moved to greet the Council as they descended the carriage step.

  'It's not much of a wager if we both pick the same winner,' he said.

  Vasselis drew in breath and stamped a welcoming expression on to his face. The courtyard was filling with infantry. A detachment of cavalry cantered under the grand arch. He noted that the Armour of God had remained without.

  'My lords of the Council of Speakers, welcome,' he said. 'And I feel I speak for all here on the Hill and throughout the City and indeed the wider Conquord when I commend you for an interment that was honest, sympathetic, reverent and altogether fitting. It warms my heart and I thank you.'

  Beside him, Gesteris was nodding his approval. Winds inclined his head in acknowledgement.

  'The Omniscient will make His judgement. For our faithful, the crimes of the Advocate were far outweighed by her achievements. As ministers of the Order, we can but reflect how the people feel.'

  'And what about your personal views?' asked Gesteris gruffly.

  Earth, Oceans and Fire clustered behind Winds, who continued.

  'The Advocate was destroyed by guilt. And her demise, though surprising in its manner, was an inevitable consequence of her actions. However, there is a cold wind now at the heights of power where once there was a consistent barrier. And the architects of the malaise gripping this City are still at large.'

  Vasselis felt his mood cool and hope begin to shred.

  'Come,' he said. 'Sit with us and talk. The Advocate has opened the door on possibility. Let us not fall back into old animosity.'

  Winds smiled rather sadly and shook his head.

  'There is no need, Marshal Vasselis. The head of the beast is taken. The body must now die. We will take the Ascendants with us now and should you refuse, we will be sending the Armour of God to collect them and this time there will be no siege.'

  'You would attack the palace?' asked Vasselis, unable to believe what he had just heard. 'You would drag the citizens, your faithful, into pointless conflict, nay dangerous conflict. I will state one more time, we are under threat of invasion. We must not waste lives. The Armour of God must defend the city. The citizens must leave.'

  Winds scoffed and Vasselis stiffened. Gesteris growled and bunched his fists at his side.

  'There is no invasion. There is no threat. There is only denial of evil. And your repetitive demands are wearing on our nerves.'

  Across the city the tenor of the horns and bells changed. Harsh, fast, repetitive tones, echoing across the rooftops. Winds gaped and looked into the sky as if challenging more lies.

  'No invasion?' said Gesteris, having to shout as the clamour gained in volume, filling the air. He stepped into Winds and grabbed the collars of his cloak. 'Does that sound like peace to you?'

  Winds was gaping. 'It can't be. It was lies.' . Vasselis stepped between them, pushed Gesteris gently away.

  'No, Winds, it wasn't. And your refusal to believe has cost the Advocate her mind and then her life. It has torn this city apart and that is the last thing we could afford. Now I want to see Horst Vennegoor in front of me inside the hour. Because, whatever you

  believe, the dead really are coming. And it sounds to me as though the Ocetanas might not be able to stop them. And don't forget to apologise to every citizen you see on your way. Seems to me you might just have killed them all.'

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  859th cycle of God, 10th day of Genasfall

  'Pump bellows.'

  The Ocetarus rowed alongside the enemy vessel. The drum beat out
a murderous rhythm. Below decks, the oarsmen sang to keep themselves focused. They could not afford to drop the pace now. Iliev looked up at the mast. The sail was furled against it but the pennant was flying straight back along the vessel, pointing at the stern.

  'Fire!' he ordered.

  Along the deck of the enemy ship, Tsardon sailors lined the rail, firing bows across the short space. They rattled off the shields set to defend the bellows and pipes on the Ocetarus's stern. Iliev's skipper twitched his hand on the tiller, watching for movements to cause collision.

  The jet of naphtha was ignited. A spear of flame roared out from the stern of the Conquord flagship and played from stern to bow of the Tsardon trireme as they passed.

  'Starboard heave,' ordered Iliev.

  The skipper pulled hard on the tiller, veering away from the enemy. Tsardon sailors were aflame. Fires engulfed the entire starboard side. There was chaos on the oar deck. Naphtha fed along oars. There was a clashing and the ship slewed to port. Iliev could hear screams. The bellows could project the naphtha almost forty feet. He wished they could hit mast and sail but this would do.

  Panic had taken a hold. He could hear the strange keening sound, the wailing of the dead crammed where they were in the hold. It was a hideous sound and Iliev regretted the fate of every innocent man who had to suffer to keep the Conquord safe. The enemy vessel was in trouble. And water only fed the flames. The naphtha ate deep into the timbers and burned very hot. The fire reached high into the sky and fizzed on the waterline.

  Iliev said a prayer for all those being taken to the bosom of Ocetarus. But it was nowhere near enough. He turned forward. Ocenii squadron corsairs streaked across the water from twenty base triremes. Squad seven was on the water, tracking them and waiting for Iliev to join them. He watched squad fourteen strike low in the bow of a trireme a few hundred yards away to starboard. The Tsardon vessel shuddered across the water. Moments later, another squad impacted its stern.